


a little sweet, a little dangerous

by suheafoams



Category: ONEUS (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Kissing, M/M, Unreliable Narrator, background!youngdo, idols!seodo, model!dongju
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-23
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 15:22:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28940670
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suheafoams/pseuds/suheafoams
Summary: “You don’t have to do anything to thank me,” Seoho says. “I didn’t help you to get something in return.”“I know.” Dongju leans in, fixing the collar of Seoho’s sweater. His fingertips brush against Seoho’s skin, feather light, and Seoho is suddenly all too conscious of the gulping noise his throat makes when he swallows nervously. “I just needed an excuse to see you again.”“Oh,” Seoho says, mildly, becauseare they going to talk about this weird elephant in the room? right in the men’s restroom?and Dongju laughs.(seoho agrees to go to dinner with a friend of geonhak's, not knowing it'll be with high profile model son dongju, who he's met before.)
Relationships: Kim Geonhak | Leedo & Lee Seoho, Lee Seoho/Son Dongju | Xion
Comments: 26
Kudos: 82





	a little sweet, a little dangerous

**Author's Note:**

  * For [frosmxths](https://archiveofourown.org/users/frosmxths/gifts).



> i had a fleeting thought to challenge myself and write something non-seodo and i barely made it— 
> 
> (xiho are really cute and i think (inhales) dongju should smooch seoho)
> 
> for kevin,  
> i am unexpectedly fond of this verse tho i felt a little out of my element! i hope you have fun reading it!!! :3c

“What do you think,” Geonhak asks, as he presses a cold can of juice to the back of Seoho’s neck, invades personal space in an already cramped studio for his regularly scheduled program of hovering over Seoho, “of coming to dinner with a friend of mine?” 

Running on even less sleep than usual means Seoho doesn’t catch the subtly devious edge to Geonhak’s voice, and Geonhak’s default, nonexistent brain-to-mouth filter makes it so that he typically doesn’t have to. “I need to finish this song—” 

“You’ve locked yourself up all day because of it, and you’re getting nowhere,” Geonhak says. “One proper dinner is not going to ruin your life.” 

“Yes it will,” Seoho says, as Geonhak sets the juice down and shoves his head right next to Seoho’s, saving Seoho’s progress on his file before he promptly pulls the laptop screen down and tugs at Seoho to stand up. “Geonhakkie, nooooo—”

“Take the juice with you,” Geonhak says. He grabs Seoho’s coat from where it’s hanging on a chair and tosses it at Seoho, walking over and adjusting the collar after Seoho puts it on. “Some sugar in your system will maybe take the dead look out of your eyes.” 

“I’ll have you know I’m very sensitive to remarks about my eyes,” Seoho says. 

“You’re gorgeous, hyung,” Geonhak offers, with some sincerity but mostly exasperation. “Walk like you’re trying to avoid getting caught by Harin, or we’re going to be late.”

“Who’s your friend?” Seoho locks the door to the studio before following Geonhak down the hall, juice in his hand. “Am I supposed to dress even nicer than usual because it’s not just you for dinner?” 

“You wouldn’t dress your best for me?” Geonhak asks, raising an eyebrow at Seoho when their steps finally fall in line and match each other’s pace. 

“Well,” Seoho says, sweetly, “I would, but we spend so much time together you already know the most beautiful part of me is my heart.” 

“Haha.” Not bothering to hide how unimpressed he sounds, Geonhak hip checks Seoho and nearly sends him flying into the staircase handle. “Well, they’re a fan of you, and I tell them about your antics often enough that they probably think the sun shines out of your ass.” 

“Oh god,” Seoho says, conveniently making a verbal and emotional detour around the implications of Geonhak _praising_ him in front of other people. “You talk about me off the clock? When we’re only colleagues—” 

“Why not?” Geonhak doesn’t turn back to look at him, just continues his descent of stair steps, the lingering, constant echo of his sneaker soles loud in the stairwell. “Don’t you talk to your mom about me?” 

“No,” Seoho says, holding his hand to his chest, “I block out all my traumatic experiences, why would I put that kind of burden on my mom—” he laughs, shrinking back when Geonhak turns around to shove him in the shoulder. 

“You have _such_ a shitty personality,” Geonhak says. “Man, I don’t know what they see in you. I hope they become disillusioned once they meet you in person and taste reality.” 

“Are you setting me up on a blind date, or something?” Seoho says with narrowed eyes. “You remember what happened the last time you tried to set me up, don’t you?”

Geonhak’s ears flush bright red. “Okay, look, I didn’t realize how much you didn’t like surprises, or _women—_ ” 

“Do you want Youngjo to magically acquire another purple fluffy pair of handcuffs,” Seoho asks. “Is that what you want, Geonhak.” 

“No, no, _no,_ ” Geonhak says. With his elbow, he pushes open the door to the first base level where his fancy, too small sports car must be parked, and continues holding it open until Seoho steps through. “Please don’t give him any new reasons to be even more shameless than he already is.” 

It smells like cigarette smoke and rubber, unpleasant, but Seoho smiles as he thinks of what his relationship with Geonhak used to be like back when they were trainees. 

Geonhak was painfully withdrawn, despite having trained at YG previously where he was sure to have met the worst kind of _monsters_ behind the sweetest smiles, and Seoho was a bit of a menace, sure, but mostly well intentioned when he wasn’t busy pulling pranks and wreaking havoc. It was all Seoho could do to not scare Geonhak off every thirty seconds, the guy was so conscious of how much physical space he occupied, seemed to want to minimize it anytime he wasn’t dancing or singing or rapping. 

Then Geonhak had started to cling, and stare, and giggle into Seoho’s chest every time Seoho said anything remotely entertaining. Seoho hadn’t wanted to know what it meant, because acknowledging attachment meant potentially throwing away years of hard work and months of making Geonhak comfortable enough to finally consider them a team. 

“I guess you like ‘em shameless, huh,” Seoho says, dismissing old nostalgic thoughts. “Is that why your crush on me didn’t last very long?” 

“When did I,” Geonhak frowns, coughing before starting again, like he does every time he’s trying to lie and failing at it, “when did I ever have a crush on you, asshole?” 

Seoho shrugs. “Maybe you still have one, and you’re just praying away your overwhelming love for me by focusing your gestures of affection elsewhere.” 

“You’re shameless when it comes to being a complete dick,” Geonhak says, pressing something on his car remote. His car unlocks, custom headlights obnoxiously neon, and Seoho makes an impressed noise. “You don’t even pick up my calls. Where would love bloom if I can’t even get a hold of you because you literally _swiped_ my incoming call out of your notifications?” 

“Phone calls are very difficult,” Seoho says, faintly, “and my games are very important.” 

“You pick up Youngjo’s calls,” Geonhak points out. 

“Youngjo doesn’t sound like unpaved road on the ears,” Seoho says, ignoring Geonhak’s protests from outside the car as he gets in the passenger’s side, “and you know where to find me if you really need me, right?” 

“Curled up in the studio, almost always, or reading webtoons,” Geonhak says. “It’s tragic.” He pauses, after settling with a playlist of soft alternative songs he deems worth listening to on the drive over. “Would you really hate someone being interested in you, though?” 

“‘I appreciate all forms of positive attention’,” Seoho replies mechanically, quoting Geonhak’s words from a hilariously painful interview years ago in place of a real answer, and Geonhak smacks him on the thigh. 

“Why do I bother with you at all,” Geonhak asks, more at himself than at Seoho, and Seoho leans back in his seat as he opens up the level of Candy Crush he’s been trying to beat. 

✰✰✰

Geonhak has plenty of famous friends, as much as he still struggles to talk to strangers and blushes bright red whenever the owners of their favorite family restaurant tell him he’s grown even more handsome. 

It comes with the territory of what they do for a living, and yet Seoho is still blindsided when he looks up at the sound of soft footsteps approaching their table and finds Son Dongju sliding into the seat next to him. 

Widely successful in the modeling industry (Seoho’s knowledge isn’t firsthand, but his memory is great, and Youngjo has mentioned Dongju multiple times in passing when showing Seoho pieces he likes from recent season shows), Dongju is _also_ someone Seoho hadn’t planned on meeting again after a chance encounter nearly two weeks ago. 

Bewildered, Seoho watches Dongju get settled beside him as Geonhak asks, “Was traffic okay?” 

“Not too bad,” Dongju replies, running a slender hand through his long, blonde hair. He smiles at Seoho briefly, with a dimpled cheek and droopy, fairylike eyes and long lashes coated with a hint of mascara. “I asked my manager to leave earlier so I wouldn’t be late.” 

“Did you complete all your work properly?” Geonhak asks, and Dongju pouts. It’s cute, and there’s an obvious familiarity between them, what with Geonhak immediately falling into concerned mode, no greetings needed. 

“Of course,” Dongju says, carefully rolling up the sleeves of his pastel sweater. The soft fibers of periwinkle are long enough that he sort of looks like he’s glowing. “Hyung, are you gonna let me get even one word out to Seoho-ssi?”

Geonhak looks between him and Seoho, smile twisting into something devilish when he sees Seoho’s markedly stiff body language. “You have the rest of dinner,” Geonhak says. “If Seoho doesn’t keel over halfway through the meal.” 

“That’s true,” Dongju says, and then he’s directing all his attention at Seoho. “I was looking forward to meeting you again, Seoho-ssi, but I guess you don’t really reply to texts?” 

“Sorry,” Seoho says. He’d seen the messages, had gotten too tongue tied to form a coherent reply and then started working on songs for the album, promptly pushing everything else aside. “I’ve been busy, so—“

“I wanted to thank you for helping me out at the party,” Dongju says. 

“You don’t have to,” Seoho says. 

It’s not like he’d gone out of his way to be helpful, when he’d only happened to be in the hallway where Dongju had been trying to fend off ambiguous advances from a taller man Seoho vaguely recognized but couldn’t pinpoint a name for. Dongju was without his manager, seemingly, and maybe that made it easier for people to dismiss his polite, but firm attempts to excuse himself. 

Having done his rounds with the necessary acquaintances, Seoho’d been preoccupied with heading home early until Dongju had approached him, complaining, “ _Why didn’t you come pick me up sooner, Seoho hyung_?” 

Torn between Dongju knowing Seoho’s name, and Seoho’s _age_ , and his obvious desperation for Seoho to play along, Seoho could only make a split second decision and then muster what minimal acting skills he possessed to apologize for being late, right before Dongju nearly bowled him over with a hug and clung on long enough for the unfamiliar man pestering him to withdraw.

“ _Thank you, you saved me a lot of trouble,_ ” Dongju had said afterwards, smoothing out the wrinkles in Seoho’s blazer. The scent of his cologne had lingered even as he pulled away. “ _Sorry if you were shocked because I suddenly touched you. My manager’s not here because he has the day off, and I—_ ” 

“ _It’s okay,_ ” Seoho had said, softly, and even if he hadn’t known enough about Dongju beyond a brief Naver search to be starstruck before, he certainly was the moment Dongju had smiled at him, shy and grateful and unbelievably _pretty._

Seoho doesn’t know how much Dongju has revealed to Geonhak about them crossing paths, but Geonhak’s earlier confidence in Seoho making a good impression regardless of how he was dressed (or how much it showed on his face he wasn’t sleeping enough) makes a lot more sense now. 

“I know I don’t have to, but I _wanted_ to,” Dongju says. Out of something personal and cautionary, Seoho’d always assumed the model was more purposeful with his words than he was sincere, but Geonhak’s brought him to dinner on a day off, and Geonhak would never do that with someone he didn’t trust. “I can’t believe I only got through to you with Geonhak.” 

Seoho can’t really believe it either. He feels antagonized by his own fatigue clouded brain for not catching the unusual persistence on Geonhak’s end, but it’s not like he could have known his bandmate and Dongju were such close friends and avoided this entirely. 

So he can only laugh at his predicament, fiddling with the rings on his fingers and wondering whether Dongju would notice if he scooted a _little_ farther away. Dongju keeps looking at him, and Seoho’s not _dense,_ but sometimes it’s easier to pretend he is so that he doesn’t have to navigate uncertainties. 

“If I’m not careful, he practically turns into one with his laptop,” Geonhak says. Dongju hums thoughtfully. “Melts into the studio walls in his haste to do too many things in one day for one human.” 

“Sounds like you don’t have any time to play,” Dongju laments, and Seoho just sips from his glass of water, trying not to choke. 

Like he’s insinuated nothing, Dongju laughs and leans into Seoho as he daintily flips open the menu. “Should we order what we want to eat?”

Dinner is a pleasant affair, despite Seoho’s lingering desire to melt into the ground every time Dongju gives him an expectant look and asks Seoho specific questions that Geonhak can’t answer for him with Seoho’s diffusive giggle as an instrumental in the background. 

It’s not awkward, or painful like Seoho’s come to expect from spending time with people he’s not immediately warmed up to. Dongju’s attention is just...unwavering, and Geonhak is clearly in on it because he laughs every time Seoho so much as glares at him in a signal to _rescue_ Seoho from having to make conversation. 

(Youngjo’s definitely going to end up with another mysterious, gratuitous box with enough sex toys that will have Geonhak behaving suspiciously well mannered for at least a month.) 

What Seoho doesn’t anticipate is Dongju semi-cornering him in the men’s restroom later, smile sweet in the reflection of the mirror where he’s standing behind Seoho, but a bit more uncertain than it had been back at their table. He washes his hands, too, murmuring something about the grease in the meat leaving residue on his fingertips. 

“I haven’t made you uncomfortable, have I?” he asks, drying his hands and then folding his arms over his chest in a way that betrays a slip in composure. “Seoho-ssi?” 

Seoho shakes his head. 

“Oh, good,” Dongju says, “because—”

“You don’t have to do anything to thank me,” Seoho says. “I didn’t help you to get something in return.” 

“I know.” Dongju leans in, fixing the collar of Seoho’s sweater. His fingertips brush against Seoho’s skin, feather light, and Seoho is suddenly all too conscious of the gulping noise his throat makes when he swallows nervously. “I just needed an excuse to see you again.” 

“Oh,” Seoho says, mildly, because _are they going to talk about this weird elephant in the room? right in the men’s restroom?_ and Dongju laughs. As if reading Seoho’s mind, he nudges both of them out of the sink area and into the private hall where there’s sofas and a fake potted tree in the corner and still too much open space for Seoho to find anywhere to hide. 

“Seoho-ssi—” and Seoho’s been thinking about how formal that sounds, how it’d be a little easier to breathe if Dongju could be more familiar with him. 

“You don’t have to be so polite when you’re calling me,” Seoho says. 

“Seoho _hyung,_ ” Dongju revises, pleased. Specks of stray iridescent glitter are scattered across the high points of his cheek, and there’s something hopeful, adoring in his eyes. “What’s it going to take to get you to kiss me again~?” 

“That’s probably a bad idea, considering—” is all Seoho can get out before Dongju is pressing him up against the intricate, gold framed mirror mounted on the marbled wall and stealing a kiss. Having Dongju’s mouth on his is as nerve wracking as it is welcome, and the taste of bubblegum and lemonade and eagerness is a lot more familiar than Seoho expects, but he eventually has to dig his fingers into Dongju’s sides to remind Dongju to give him air—

“Wait,” Seoho says, stammers out as Dongju huffs in annoyance, “not here.” 

“Not here?” Dongju smiles slyly, like Geonhak isn’t still outside waiting for them to come back, like he’s not a high profile model who has a lot to risk by foolishly, impulsively kissing Seoho here where anyone could walk in on them. “Where are you going to take me then?” 

“Not at all, I mean,” Seoho says, heat diffusing through his whole face, and Dongju smacks at Seoho’s chest with disdain, having maybe expected an answer laced with more mischief. “Dongju, I—” 

“There are no functional security cameras in this building, let alone this restaurant, and any you see on the interior are scarecrow models,” Dongju says. He stares at Seoho’s mouth through half lidded eyes, chewing on his bottom lip. “Don’t ask me why I know that.” 

“Okay,” Seoho says, amused even as his chest burns with something both heavy and floaty. 

“So,” Dongju says. “You’re not opposed to this? Kissing me as long as it’s somewhere private?” His eyes darken, petulant. “I have a feeling you’re going to run from me twice in a row, so I have to make sure.” 

Seoho is hesitant to hand over a definitive answer. He knows Dongju is sweet, and caring, and thoughtful, but Dongju hasn’t known Seoho long enough beyond a coincidental act of decency and whatever anecdotes Geonhak’s fed him. Although there’s a thrill in being wanted, Seoho is well aware that Dongju could just as easily chew him up and spit him out once the curiosity fades, and Seoho is the type to linger on things long lost even if he won’t ask for them back. 

“At the very least,” Dongju adds, after scanning Seoho’s conflicted expression for a moment, “will you think about it?” 

Seoho returns to the table first a while later, lips still tingling but not too pink (he’d checked in the mirror that Dongju had shoved him up against before coming out, to make sure Geonhak wouldn’t take one look at him and know instantly what Seoho’d been up to). 

Even so, Geonhak doesn’t seem surprised by the long trip away. Maybe he’d stepped out for a call, since his phone had been lighting up with notifications earlier. 

“You look more relaxed,” he says, nonchalant in his tone of voice despite the playful curve of his eyes, and Seoho sort of wants to smack him. Or crawl into the ground. 

Instead, Seoho looks over the table, at the nearly empty glasses of water and Dongju’s lemonade and remainder of their food, and figures it’s time to ask for takeout boxes. “Are you done eating?” 

“Yeah,” Geonhak says. “I’ll go pick up the bill.” 

“Take my card,” Seoho replies, reaching for his wallet. “Ask them for takeout containers, too.” 

“Oho,” Geonhak laughs, and Seoho frowns at him, knowing whatever’s about to come out of Geonhak’s mouth isn’t worth hearing. “Trying to impress a certain someone?” 

“Do you want to end up in the trunk of your own fancy sports car?” 

“Oh, I’m so scared,” Geonhak says. 

“Right,” Seoho says, reconsidering his threat. “There are other ways to ruin your life. Good thing Youngjo and I are close enough that he overshares his preferences in bed, huh?” 

“Fuck,” Geonhak says, immediately changing his tune. “If you would do me the honor of handing over your card, generous, perfect, handsome Seoho-hyung—” 

“Sounds more like it,” Seoho says, laughing harder when Geonhak uses both hands to receive Seoho’s credit card. “So polite. Aren’t you glad I care so much about your savings, Geonhakkie?” 

“Very,” Geonhak says, then pauses. “Dongju’s a really good person, hyung.” 

Seoho blinks at him. “I know.” 

“I’m just saying...” Geonhak flips the card between his fingers, absentminded as he scrapes together what rare coherence he possesses to be _communicative_ , “he looks like he doesn’t care, sometimes, but he’d cherish you.” 

“Is that why you dropped me into his clutches?” Seoho asks, slowly. “Because you think I need cherishing?” 

“Maybe it’s because I’m tired of performing dark, sexy songs about loneliness,” Geonhak says, smirking. “What do you think about releasing a sappy love song in the spring? If all goes well—” 

“I guess you _can_ pay for dinner yourself,” Seoho says, reaching out to grab his card back, and Dongju returns in the midst of Geonhak’s feeble protests that suggesting a change in concept for their future album isn’t a _crime—_

Dongju doesn’t do much to hide his intentions when they part ways after leaving the restaurant, clinging to Seoho for warmth despite the thickness of his own sweater and coat. Seoho would be more wary because they’re in public, but pushing Dongju away seems unkind when Seoho won’t mean it anyway. 

So he lets Dongju coo at him and fix his collar again, agrees to reply to Dongju’s messages and find some time in his schedule to arrange another dinner, another outing. Seoho doesn’t think about how easily Dongju could kiss him again, when their faces are this close, because they’re not alone right now and he still hasn’t decided whether it’s safe to open up his heart just yet. 

“Without Geonhak hyung, okay?” Dongju murmurs into Seoho’s ear, while standing on his tiptoes, and the words send a rush of embarrassment up Seoho’s spine. 

“My poor eyes,” Geonhak says, which earns him an irritated smack from Dongju. 

“I want to be special to you,” Dongju says to Seoho, before he’s pulling back, standing at a more acceptable distance away. Foolishly, Seoho already misses the warmth. “Don’t forget!” 

Seoho doesn’t tell him he already is, until months later. 

**Author's Note:**

> **pls consider leaving a comment if you enjoyed! tell me your favorite line? : >pleaseeeeeeeeeee**


End file.
